The Dark Knight's Creed
by Mostafa
Summary: Damyan Ibn al Xu'ffasch isn't your typical angsty orphan with insomnia. He doesn't dream of a better future but rather of a fascinating past - a history full of intrigue, deception and murder - but are they only dreams ? Or are they something more ?
1. Chapter 1  Born of the Night

A night sky; veiled by monoliths of iron and steel….

Rivers of tarmac; snaking through the mountains of concrete, turning here, swerving there : sometimes meeting at a point ; sometimes diverging into tributaries ; forming a labyrinth – both familiar and alien…

But the maze was empty save for a few wretched stragglers – the unfortunate few who had nowhere to go – nowhere to take shelter from the cold, hard night

All was quiet – nothing stirred….not even a mouse….not even a rat …

Yet something was amiss. Something evil was afoot.

And then, as suddenly as the silence was abrupt, a beam of light rent apart the sky ; a second moon erupted amongst the dark, stormy clouds – yet at its centre was a shadow – darker than the night sky around it – a shadow in the shape of a giant, monstrous Bat…

Damyan awoke with a stir. He knew it was a dream – he'd been having it for quite a while now. But that didn't stop it from feeling any less real.

He could still feel the asphalt beneath his feet ….still smell the noxious fumes permeating through the stillness of the night wind.

Well at least he didn't scream this time: he'd been the laughing stop of the orphana….er…the "Children's Welfare Institution" for days when he first had the dream. If matriarch Rebecca hadn't intervened people would still be calling him the night-screamer to his face – at least people now had the decency to whisper behind his back.

The living quarter was pitch black but even in the darkness he didn't need to hear the snoring emanating from every side to sense the other people in the room.

The heat was suffocating….He needed to leave the crowded dorm – the heat was suffocating.

Wrapping his bed sheet around him Damyan climbed down his bed, carefully avoiding the lumps in the dark that were his sleeping compatriots, and made his way across to the door. The wooden floorboards creaked loudly under his feet , but Damyan didn't mind – he knew the snoring was more than enough to muffle the sound of his footsteps.

A normal person would scarcely have been able to take two steps in the dark without stubbing his toes on something, but Damyan hardly ever gave it a second thought – he'd been sneaking out of bed at night for as long as he could remember. It just came naturally to him….a little bit too naturally some would say.

Outside the dorm the corridor lay empty and cold – yet this lonely coolness appealed to Damyan more than the warm, crowded dorm ever could. Yet something was still missing ;

Damyan's movements became stealthier as he walked down the hall – He knew the grown-ups weren't half as heavy sleepers as his dorm mates and he knew all too well the consequences of getting caught – he could still feel Benzhamin's hand's wringing his ear.

But he was too close to his target now to let the thought of that old weasel stop him.

Just a few more steps now….Damyan reached out his hand….the cold metal door knob felt like an ice cube under his fingers...with a swift twist of his wrist he slowly slid the door open as a gust of fresh night wind greeted him.

Damyan stepped out onto the balcony and took a deep breath – Yes ! This is what he really wanted - The Dark canopy of night, encrusted with a million diamonds above his head – and the wide black , misty horizon stretching out into infinity in front of him. The Night called to Damyan like nothing else did. And in the darkness he felt he belonged to it like he never felt he belonged to anything else that his life as a fatherless orphan had given him.


	2. Chapter 2 The Bastard's Fury

A sea of children wading through yellow-brown corridors ; their faces indiscernible , almost featureless. Like a living blur they moved from room to room – the chaos almost having order ; their shouts and chattering almost a chant….

" Hey you !"…

The chanting continued sounding ominous now and then mirthful again – the noises of an orphanage are almost never completely pleasant.

"Hey ! I am talking to you"…

The indistinguishable figures with their faceless faces continued their chaotic parade , sparing only an occasional glance with their featureless eyes. Islands of order in the chanting arose and sank like a thousand Atlanti under Neptune's fury ; The brownness of Reality remained unchanging. An air of tension was rising yet…..

"BASTARD ! LOOK AT ME !".

The spell ended. The chant ceased. The parade stopped.

Damyan looked around himself – every face in the corridor, no longer featureless, was focused on him. They were curious – yet their indifference was all but obvious; manifesting as an almost dull, grayish glow. His eyes scanned the hallway quickly, determined to find the voice that had hailed him.

It wasn't too long before their eyes met; a rather large, stout boy wearing the same white tunic as the rest of the orphans ;stretched mercilessly across his huge, bloated frame. Yet Damyan didn't need to look at the scowl on the boy's face to know he was angry. He didn't need to look at his clenched fist to know his intentions; for they were as clear to him as a red blood stain on white canvas…..

The boy moved shoved through the crowd as his lackeys followed , pitifully thin, frail boys who followed their stronger leader in hopes of scrapping a better living off of the spoils at his feet ; like hounds desperately yelping in hopes that their master will throw them some leftover, rotten meat.

"Peace, Roe " Damyan added dryly as the huge boy neared. The greeting only seemed to make him angrier.

"Piss on your peace, bastard "spat Roe angrily "give me my stuff back !"

"Your stuff ?" Damyan replied with surprise. He had expected Roe to want to pick a fight with him . he'd been doing it for almost all his life, but allegations of thievery – now that was something new.

"Yes MY STUFF !", the angry boy roared "Don't play dumb with me ! The boys told me everything – they told they saw you sneaking around at night !

Damyan knew off course what his 'stuff' was , Roe had been boasting about his collection of 'Exotic Western Magazines' ever since he managed to knick some of it out of Benzhamin's quarter. But he obviously had nothing to do with their disappearance – indeed Damyan never could understand what joy his peers obtained from seeing photos of poorly clad western women.

"Why would I even touch your stuff, Ro ? I'd really rather not get any of your stupidity on me , thank you"

"Then what ? Magazine pixies took 'em ?"

"Yes, and they left you a peanut too – it's riiiight in here" Damyan sneered jabbing a finger at Roe's rough, sweaty forehead

"Don't pay coy with me , Bastard !" exclaimed Roe as he lunged violently at Damyan, seizing him by the color of his robes. "GIVE. ME. MY STUFF !"

"I already told you that I don't have it " the boy spoke fearlessly.

"Fine ! If you don't give back what you took from me I guess I gotta return the favor , huh bastard ?"

"Wait…what… ?" Damian felt a cold wave of anxiety sweep up his spine. He didn't want the bully to know his threats had any effect but from the growing sneer on Roe's face Damyan feared that his own body language had betrayed him.

"Sheenen, Biths" the bully motioned to his underlings. The two scrawny boys yelped at the call like the glory seeking, weakling dogs that they were and moved forward. At a gesture from their leader the two boys each grabbed a hold of one of Damyan's arms and mulled them aside. Damyan knew he could take both of them down in a fair fight but Roe's presence had put him in a significant disadvantage.

"An eye for an eye, bastard " the head-bully stated with sadistic pleasure as he grabbed a hold of the front color of Damyan's robes and ripped it apart, revealing his emaciated chest and an ornate, locaket that lay atop it : a locate in the shape of a Bat. Even in the crowded corridor the glint of the locket was unmistakable – it was the glint of pure gold.

Roe's eyes sparkled greedily as he eyed the ornament. In his mind he knew that even if Damyan really had stolen his precious magazines this was hardly equivalent pay off – but at that moment all he cared about was claiming the locate for his own.

Damyan struggled fiercely as he realized what his captor had in mind ; fiercely and in vain for the restraint was too strong – the locket was the only memory he had of his mother ;

" Stop !"

the only memento of the beginning of his existence ;

"…I didn't ….please…."

the only proof that he was something more than a simple bastard.

"Please….. don't take it….."

And he watched with despair as the bully reached down to seize it.

The locket was the only thing he ever loved – the only thing he thought he'd ever love in this world that had stigmatized him so for merely existing….

"…..I'll do anything you want….please….."

…the only gift his mother had given him….the only gift the world had bestowed upon him

"…no….."

…he would not let him have it. He would not let him have it.

"…No…"

He would NEVER LET HIM TAKE IT.

" **NO !"**

And just as Roe's fingers curled around his treasure something in his captive broke – some invisible restraint shattered and Damyan broke free with the fury of a demon.

The second hand of the clocked barely moved 5 places yet it seemed to take an eternity ; it seemed to take an eternity as Damyan ripped his hands free of Sheenen and Bith's vice grip; seemed like an eternity as his right hand clasped down on Roe's ; seemed like an eternity as he violently twisted it free of his locket ; seemed like an eternity as the dry snap of cracking bone reverberated throughout the suddenly silent corridor.

But Damyan wasn't done yet – with the swiftness of a leopard Damyan turned around and rained blow after blow on Roe's underlings. But their master was not to be forgotten . Before they had even touched the ground , writhing in pain Damyan's heel was at Roe's nose shattering it as he aimed another blow at his ribs. Roe tried in vain to deflect the blow but Damyan was much too quick.

When the demon within him had finally retired Damyan stood amidst a crowd – a crowd centered around four boys – three of them lying on the ground, bleeding and groaning, while the fourth stood atop them in an almost bestial, primeval stance.

Damyan had no recollection of what happened , save that his body had acted on his own – and that deep down, hidden amidst his outward disinterest in violence, he could feel more than a little satisfaction – satisfaction at seeing his foes brought low – satisfaction in knowing that Justice had been served.


End file.
